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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374140">Hard Wood and Erect Shelves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FractalIKEA/pseuds/FractalIKEA'>FractalIKEA</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack, M/M, Multi, Other, objectum sexual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:49:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FractalIKEA/pseuds/FractalIKEA</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweden and Finland have always been the best of partners, but Sweden has always withheld a secret from Finland. Sweden's true love is IKEA, and he can't hold this back anymore. When Britain asks for help shopping at IKEA, Britain realizes that there may be more to this relationship than meets the eye. This is a story about the objectum sexual relationship between Sweden and IKEA (SweIKEA), written by someone who is in an objectum sexual relationship with IKEA (and works at IKEA). </p><p>This story will have extremely explicit and graphic sexual scenes in the future, and the rating will be changed to reflect such upon publishing of such chapters. Feedback is greatly appreciated as this is the first time I'm writing something beyond a one shot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Sweden/IKEA</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hard Wood and Erect Shelves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sweden sat out on the patio remembering the days when the concept of minimalistic living began to arise in his country. People swaying far away from the ornate and opulent lifestyle of mainland Europeans in favor of the simpler, quieter, and more modest lifestyle of the modern Swede. T’was the 1920s when he first remembered walking into a local artisanal shop and instead of seeing intricately carved table legs and meticulously chiseled cabinet doors, he set his gaze upon simplistic flat, perhaps lightly beveled surfaces, whose angles all met orthogonally. It was a colder summer day earlier in that next decade, that one time he remembered seeing a young boy running around Älmhult, peddling matchsticks and ball point pens, trying to make a quick buck. He had stopped the young boy, purchased a box of matches from him, and advised him to be mindful of his business practices. At the time, he thought nothing of the young Ingvar Kamprad. Just another boy, going about his life, trying to make pocket change. He had no idea how much this little boy would forever change his life.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about, Sve?” Sweden turned around to see Finland poking his head out from the patio door. He let out a soft grunt. “I do miss him. Without him, people would forget I exist. Forget that I am even a country.” He said, gesturing Finland to come sit next to him. Finland does so. “Who?” asks Finland. Sweden let out a soft sigh. “Ingvar. I watched that little boy grow up and make something magnificent, a true modern icon of my culture.” Finland took Sweden’s hand into his own. “Ah yes, I too have watched great people live and die. At least people associate IKEA with you. Most people think Nokia is Japanese! Japan thinks it’s pretty funny, actually.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>Sweden places his hand gently on the arm rest of the Poäng chair he rested upon. “This design. It is so elegant. The unnecessarily complicated design of furniture in France’s house is a testament to the craftsmanship, but it is too much on the eyes.” He said, gently stroking the arm rest. Finland nodded his head. “I like the furniture in France’s house. But like him, the furniture just screams for attention. It is hard to relax when there is so much going on around you.” Sweden wraps his fingers around the arm rest and grips it firmly. “These smooth Bezier curves, the simple and straight to the point design. It is very pleasant to the eye.” He said, tightening his grip. “I think my favorite part is the assembly. Mr. Denmark told me he likes it too, because it’s a lot like his LEGOes!” said Finland, pretending to stack LEGO bricks.</p><p> </p><p>Sweden grunted. “Yes. I know how to build furniture of my own… but have you noticed that everything in IKEA goes with everything else in IKEA? Why would I build something from scratch when everything I have is already from IKEA, and everything I need can be bought from IKEA?” said Sweden, who was now very tenderly fondling the arm rest. Finland started to notice Sweden’s tactile analysis of the chair. “You sure are touching that chair a lot, Sve.” He said, giggling. Sweden got mildly flustered and placed his hands back in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, anyway, Britain asked me to ask you a favor for him.” Said Finland. “He wanted to know if you’d take him to IKEA.” Sweden looked at him, puzzled. “Why does he want me to take him?” he asked. Finland raised his eyebrows. “He said that he needs some cheap furniture and he doesn’t want to get lost in IKEA.” Sweden sighed. “Does he want me to be his tour guide, or something?” Finland shrugged, and grabbed his phone. “What should I tell him?” he said. Sweden nodded and confirmed that he would meet up with Britain in 3 days to help him with IKEA shopping.</p>
<hr/><p>“I was going to ask Germany because he seems to love IKEA as much as you do, what with over fifty stores in his relatively small country, but I didn’t want to have to deal with his to-the-point-ness.” Said Britain, straightening his outfit as he got in the car with Sweden and Finland. “I am sure your IKEAs are much larger than ours.” He chuckled. Sweden grunted softly. “Stockholm has the second biggest IKEA in the world. Germany has the most IKEAs.” He said. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve never actually been to an IKEA.” Muttered Britain.</p><p> </p><p>Sweden started the car and started to drive towards IKEA, punching the London address into his GPS. “Many IKEAs look similar.” He said. “As a matter of fact, except for a few franchised IKEAs, the layouts are generally the same, and if the franchisers want to deviate from the plan, they need to ask special permission to do so.” Said Sweden, pulling out of Britain’s driveway. “Is that right? Well I don’t know anything much about IKEA other than it’s Swedish.” Said Britain. Finland giggled.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, the headquarters are in the Netherlands and Luxembourg, and Poland builds most of it! Isn’t that right, Sve?” he said. Sweden huffed softly. “Yes, but the Netherlands has told me he wished IKEA would stay Swedish. Luxembourg acts like he’s too good for IKEA. And I don’t recall Poland ever having any IKEA at his house.” he said. Finland gently put his hand on Sweden’s lap. “Well, I may not have that many IKEAs at my place, but I always support you and your love for IKEA.” He gently stroked Sweden’s thigh reassuringly. “Oh look, there it is!” he said, pointing at the massive blue building that lay just off the highway.</p><p> </p><p>Sweden pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. Finland and Britain followed. The large, deep blue building with its bold yellow lettering flashed across Sweden’s glasses, under which the slightest crack of a smile, a glimmer of emotion, was visible. Britain gasped. “Is… Sweden smiling?” he said, with disbelief. Finland giggled. “Yes, he is always happy when he is at IKEA. In fact, he told me a while back he wants to work part time at IKEA! He already got permission from his boss.” Britain sighed. “Anyways. Wow, this building is quite the big fellow, isn’t it?” he said, walking towards the big yellow entrance. Sweden nodded. “The one in Stockholm is four floors. This is nothing.” He said, rubbing his fingers together gently.</p><p> </p><p>The trio stepped inside the building to the light smell of wood and industry, with the distant smell of meatballs wafting through the air. “Before we go through IKEA, let us stop at the restaurant. I would like for you to try food from Småland.” Said Sweden. Britain agreed and they headed up the escalator and into the dining area at the top of it. Sweden went up to the counter and placed an order for three plates of meatballs. He grabbed some kladdkaka from the nearby coolers (labeled as Swedish Gooey Cake by IKEA) and went to pay, flashing his IKEA Family Member card at the employee. He then sat down next to Finland and Britain and handed them their plates and a cup of lingonberry drink.</p><p> </p><p>“Mashed potatoes, meatballs, and lingonberries. A very traditional Småland dinner.” Said Sweden. Britain stabbed a meatball with a fork and analyzed it for a moment before biting into it. “Oh my, this is quite delicious!” he said, shoveling a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Yes, I have my own recipe too. I will make it for you some time.” Said Sweden, beginning to eat his own meatballs.</p><p> </p><p>Britain took a sip of the drink. “This tastes like cranberry juice. What did you call this, again?” he said. Finland pulled up a picture on his phone. “They’re called lingonberries! Very Nordic!” he said. “We have a plant in our backyard, actually! They’re very tasty in the summer, fresh off the plant.” The three countries finished up their food and placed their empty and licked clean plates on the rack and headed back towards the entrance.</p><p> </p><p>Britain pointed towards a display and some sofas. “So that way is the… what do you call it again?” Sweden handed him a map of IKEA. “The Showroom. That’s where all the furniture is. Downstairs is the Marketplace, with all the utility items and soft furnishings.” Said Sweden. “I am going to go use the restroom. You wait here, unless you need to go as well.” Said Sweden. Britain nodded, and Sweden went off to the restroom. Finland followed shortly after, leaving Britain alone with the vast labyrinth of a store that lay ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I assume they may be a while, so there’s no sense in spending this time alone, right, Flying Mint Bunny?” he said, looking over his shoulder. The light green floating sprite of a rabbit hovered over his shoulder, to be seen only by Britain. “My, this store is big!” he said, propping himself up right on Britain’s shoulder. “Tinky and the others aren’t here right now, but I wanted you to come with me to keep me company when the others aren’t there.” Said Britain, giving Flying Mint Bunny a gentle pat. “Yet I can’t shake the feeling we aren’t alone. Did Tinky tag along or something?” he said, looking around him for the small fairy that usually hovered around his head. Flying Mint Bunny shook his head, but pointed his paw into one of the displays ahead. “No… but who is that?” he said, pointing at a figure propped upon a chair.</p><p> </p><p>The figure of a man, who appeared to be in his mid 40s, was sat on a chair, eyes trained directly upon Britain. He was wearing a deep blue sweater with horizontal yellow stripes that had moose facing each other in between the stripes, and khakis, and appeared to be very overweight. The man appeared to be Swedish, with a scraggly beard and a full head of hair, and the softest, kindest blue-gray eyes one could have. Except, he wasn’t actually there. He shimmered in the same way Flying Mint Bunny and all the other magical friends did, bending light in an unnatural way. He was definitely a being not in the physical realm. He smiled at Britain and gave him a wave.</p><p> </p><p>Britain started to walk towards him. “Sir, might I ask you who you are?” he said. “Britain, we’re back!” said Finland, from behind him. Britain turned around and saw Finland and Sweden walking towards him. “Oh, hello again, friends.” He said, turning back around to look at the strange man. The chair was empty, and it was just him, Finland, Sweden, and Flying Mint Bunny.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>How strange</em>.” Thought Britain, as he walked towards the displays with the others. “<em>I wonder who that odd fellow was</em>.” He looked behind him to see Finland and Sweden chatting with each other. He turned to Flying Mint Bunny… and then heard a distorted chuckle. Startled, Britain looked around for the source of the laughter. “Who was that?” said Flying Mint Bunny. Then, in a deep Swedish accent, distinct from Sweden’s came a voice. “I am IKEA.”</p>
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